


The Cake's the Thing

by agoodmusekickin



Category: Better Off Ted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodmusekickin/pseuds/agoodmusekickin
Summary: “No, no, it’s me. You’re as stalwart and virile as the atomic clock, it’s just… this mess in here is throwing my whole morning out of sync.”“What’s the matter?” Lem asks, trying to crane his neck around Phil to get a better view of the problem.“Doctor Bhamba is using our freezer again, and there’s an entire crate of Otter Pops smack dab in the middle of the prime cake real estate I carved out last night.”
Relationships: Phil Myman & Lem Hewitt
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gwyneth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/gifts).



> I can't believe this got posted and I never left you a note, but gweneth you have no idea how utterly delighted I was by all of your Yuletide ideas. I may have made a sound that only dolphins can hear when I saw that there was someone else who loved better off Ted as much as I do.
> 
> So there was absolutely no question in my mind which prompt I was going to take.
> 
> My hope is that I did your request even the smallest amount of justice, and that there's something written here that made your chortle.
> 
> This was such a delight to write.
> 
> Special thanks go out to Sarah, Liz, and Steph for their copious amounts of help.  
> And to my beta readers Becca and Beth.

_Hubris.  
At Veridian Dynamics we don’t know the meaning of the word.  
Literally. Which is another word we also don’t know the meaning of.  
And because we control what gets printed in the dictionary, now neither do you.  
If being great at what you do is positive, then why is being proud of that greatness considered a negative?_

_We say it isn’t. Who needs that kind of negativity in their lives?  
And since there’s no point in having a whole word for something that doesn’t exist, why waste both paper and ink trying to define one.  
Trust us. At Veridian Dynamics we know things about words.  
Hubris?  
Not on our watch. We’re just that good._

\---------------

The overhead lighting sprang to life as Phil backs his way through the automatic doors of the lab he shares with Lem, his life partner in all things Science.

By the usual accounting, it was just an average Tuesday morning. On Tuesdays Phil knew that their third-favorite lab coats would be hanging in their shared locker, all freshly laundered and pressed just the way they liked them. The company cafeteria would be serving three-quarter-size portions of Beefless Short ribs, with a side of broasted Brussel sprouts. There would be the requisite meetings with management, but not until long after lunch. But, most importantly, he would have the lab all to himself because Lem wouldn’t be arriving until 8:30, a full 15 minutes later than any other day during the week.

Several months ago Lem had begun seeing Gretchen from Third-Shift Accounting and Corporate Espionage. After much experimentation, they had decided Tuesday mornings were the only open times in their equally busy schedules where they could coordinate adequate time to “connect.”

Today, however, Lem wasn’t the only one getting lucky in this fifteen minute window. It just so happened that this was also the perfect amount of time to decorate the now empty lab for the very above-average Tuesday to follow: it was Lem’s birthday, there was a celebration to prepare for, and Phil couldn’t be more thrilled.

As he made his way across the room, triggering more motion-sensing lights as he did so, Phil ran through his mental checklist of what needed doing and when.

First he would stash the Midgley the Whale ice cream cake in the lab specimen freezer. Next he would call the florist to make sure the one dozen plus birth year roses were delivered to Khandi Alexander. After all, it was only right and proper that Lem’s mother be honored today as well for her contribution in bringing his best friend into this world. Then finally, he would festoon the walls with the DNA streamers fabricated with love by the kids in the Veridian Dynamics daycare center. Great care was taken to ensure each streamer turn had its customary 10.5 helical twist.

It was all going so beautifully to plan… until it drastically wasn’t. And that’s why sixteen and three quarter minutes later, Lem finds Phil standing in front of the freezer, holding the cake box, having gotten through absolutely none of his list.

“Either you’re running exceptionally late this year. Or… I’m running shorter than usual…” he says, with worry tinging his voice towards the end.

“No, no, it’s me. You’re as stalwart and virile as the atomic clock, it’s just… this mess in here is throwing my whole morning out of sync.”

“What’s the matter?” Lem asks, trying to crane his neck around Phil to get a better view of the problem.

“Doctor Bhamba is using our freezer again, and there’s an entire crate of Otter Pops smack dab in the middle of the prime cake real estate I carved out last night.”

Lem’s head tilts to one side. “The frozen people treat kind? Or the frozen telemechanic green anaconda treat kind?”

“Both,” comes Phil’s reply. “And it’s only because it’s Your Day that I won’t hold the revival of that earworm against you.”

They both grin sheepishly and sway to the tempo of _Green Anaconda_ for the requisite two measures, before turning back to address the problem at hand.  
“Can we move the crate? If it defrosts there’s no real reason why Larry can’t also have a treat…” He takes in the size of the box. “Or…several _treats_ to mark the day.”

“ _Lawrence_ ,” Phil corrects, “is watching his figure. His last shed was… awkward.”

“Was that the day with the…”

“Yes, and he’d prefer it if we didn’t talk about it at work. The walls have ears.”

“Well, not since they closed down the spontaneous auditory transplantation project.”

“Did they close that down? I hadn’t heard that.” Phil manages to keep a straight face for about as long as it takes Lem’s eyes to narrow in recognition of the pun.

“Doctor Bhamba has a freezer of his own,” Lem says, pushing his glasses up his nose and thus effectively changing the subject. “We shouldn’t feel bad about moving his stuff out of ours. Besides, it’s just a bunch of food, which shouldn’t be in the lab freezer anyways. It says right on the door that is lab specimens only. ”

“But _we’re_ putting food in the lab specimen freezer!”

“But it’s _our_ food in _our_ lab specimen freezer.”

Phil opens his mouth to retort, but Lem beats him to it.  
“Plus, it’s my birthday,” he says primly.

“I guess I can’t argue with logic like that. Okay, out with the old, and in with the new. At least until after lunch.”

“At least until after lunch,” Lem agrees. “Besides, it’s not like Lawrence will notice if his otters are twice frozen.”

“Tell that to his cybernetic olfactory and gustatory circuits.”

“Hmm, you have a point. How big is Lawrence these days?”

“With or without the limb enhancements?”

“Maybe we should save him a piece of cake just to be on the safe side?”

“It’s your birthday. You can share the cake with whomever you want.”

With that, Lem removes the crate labelled Otter Pops out of the freezer and drops it onto the closest available bench to make room for the ice cream cake, just until after lunch.

That was the plan, at any rate.

However, long after both lunch and the cake has come and gone, after Linda’s Post-Lunch Tuesday Meeting, and even after Ted’s Pre-End of the Day Productivity Summary, the crate remains exactly where they left it… forgotten.

Forgotten and continually defrosting.

In the crate, something that is most certainly not Otter Pops begins to slowly awaken.

 _soon_ , it thinks to no one in particular.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…but why Otter Pops? Why not, oh, I don’t know, those freezer blocks that come with meal-kit boxes? No one would have blinked an eye at those randomly showing up somewhere. They breed like rabbits. No one would have tried to actually EAT one of those.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks go out to Sarah, Liz, and Steph for their copious amounts of help.  
> And to my beta readers Becca and Beth.

  
_Accountability.  
At Veridian Dynamics, we know the importance of being responsible.  
We’ve written several critically acclaimed memos about it.  
_ _It all comes down to a rigid enforcement of protocol, meticulous record keeping, and a strict adherence to chain of command.  
That way we always know exactly who did what, and if anything goes wrong, who to blame.  
  
It’s why we’re the only research and development corporation to require all of our employees to have comprehensive malpractice coverage.  
Yes, even the people in the mailroom.  
  
Imagine musical chairs, only instead of losing your seat and not getting to sit down, you get blanketed in lawsuits.  
Or maybe think about the Wonder Ball, only it’s less a ball and more a jury of your peers.  
  
Veridian Dynamics. Not it._

\-------------

Phil and Lem make eye contact over the arms of their chairs, roll their eyes, and sigh in unison. This was _supposed_ to be the meeting where they presented their latest genius invention to management, but instead it’s turning out to be a monologue in six acts from Doctor Bhamba. As nice as it is to see their colleague again, they had really wanted to focus more on impressing Ted.

Impressing Ted is the first step towards impressing Veronica… which some day they will do. Hopefully.

And tomorrow can _be_ that day if only Bhamba will just. Stop. TALKING.

But noooOOOOOoooo, Bhamba just has to go on and on about his company mandated three-month stint in drug rehab, followed by another three-month whirlwind globetrotting apology tour. Because in addition to illegally smuggling unethically sourced Siberian permafrost ice cores into the country, inadvertently setting the stage for a global infestation of parasitic worms that is threatening the continued existence of humanity itself, he intentionally mislabeled said cores as edible foodstuffs in a Veridian Dynamics Laboratory freezer.

If there is one thing the company won’t stand for, it’s mislabeled lab supplies.

The only thing more ironclad than the company Non-Disclosure Agreements and Intellectual Property Clauses are their Rules Regarding the Proper Labeling of All Samples and Reagents.

“I’m sorry,” Linda interrupts.

Instantly Phil and Lem perk up.

She’s always been the moral center of these meetings. Perhaps she’ll steer the conversation back to why they’re here, and not why everyone now has to undergo decontamination procedures before and after work, and sometimes, randomly in the middle of lunch.

“…but why Otter Pops? Why not, oh, I don’t know, those freezer blocks that come with meal-kit boxes? No one would have blinked an eye at those randomly showing up somewhere. They breed like rabbits. No one would have tried to actually EAT one of those.”

Phil and Lem’s hopes all but deflate.

Linda’s desire to know more, to find logic and reason where there’s none to be had, is apparently overpowering her ability to keep everyone to the agenda.

“Except for Tim from Accounts Payable.” It’s out of Phil’s mouth before he can stop himself.

Lem slowly turns to look squarely at Phil, his face a mask of betrayal.

“Was Tim was the guy who would also eat Vick’s Vap-o-Rub out of the jar?” Ted asks.

“No,” Lem says with a sigh. If you can’t beat’em, might as well join’em. “That’s Barbara from Interoffice Mail.”

“Tim from Accounts Payable has a rare genetic mutation that allows him to not only safely ingest sodium polyacrylate, but actually metabolize it,” Phil explains to a very bewildered Ted and Linda.

“That’s why he’s in Accounts Payable now. The company promoted him from food taster when it was discovered he actually liked to eat things that were not strictly edible by humans,” Bhamba adds.

“I hear that as a kid he ate diapers,” and now Lem’s the one who can’t stop talking.

“Okay we’re getting off track here,” Linda interjects.

Once again, Phil and Lem ponder the existence of hope.

“You still haven’t told us why you chose Otter Pops.”

Only to once again be denied.

“Oh, I had just finished a box of them, and it was just the right size,” Bhamba says offhandedly. “They are delicious.”  
Linda slumps forward, her disappointment palpable.

“I almost used a box of bite-sized frozen churros, but I still had quite a few of them left, and they’re nowhere near as good when they’re freezer burned,” Bhamba continues, though no one asked.

“Okay,” Ted interjects, sliding his expertly bespoke suit cuff back enough to check the on the expensive-looking watch that adorns his elegant yet masculine wrist.“We have a few minutes left. Phil. Lem. Can you give us your elevator pitch?”

Phil and Lem look from Ted, to each other, to the presentation materials that they spent nearly as long making as they did their prototype, and back again.

“You want us to elevator pitch you the complex scientific theories that led us to create what might be the greatest, life-changing, world-altering, career-defining feat of engineering that we’ve spent literal months working on,” Lem says breaking the silence.

“If you can, yeah. I have an emergency meeting with Veronica in five,” Ted says with a tight smile. “We’re discussing the whole worm thing with the heads of our weapons division.”

“Curse your debonair good looks and rakish charm,” Phil mutters, again before he realizes he’s using his out-loud voice.  
Both men reluctantly get to their feet, turn their backs to the conference table, and in hushed tones quickly decide which parts of their twenty-five-minute presentation they can work into something under three minutes.

On the screen behind them a schematic for what looks to be a pair of boxer briefs appears.

“It took you literal months to make manpanties? Boy, the quality of our lab has really gone down since I’ve been away.” Bhamba is mostly kidding, but that doesn’t stop Phil and Lem from taking umbrage at his dismissive tone

“First of all, they’re not _manpanties_ ,” Lem protests.

Phil places a steadying hand on Lem’s upper arm. Bhamba has already taken so much of their time, there’s nothing to be gained by letting him derail their pitch any further.

Not when they can punish him later by getting him coffee and a bagel every morning… and then stopping for no reason.  
Only then will Bhamba know true wrath in its most savage form: Passive Aggression.

“They’re… relentlessly engineered undergarments for the discerning man concerned about comfort, fit, and how the changes in the global climate will affect his reproductive potential,” Phil explains.

“I’m sorry, what?” Linda.

“I’m with Linda, what?” Ted.

“Sperm health and longevity are tied to temperature. The current reliance on synthetic polymers for our clothing, our active daily lifestyles, and the ever-encroaching threat of global environmental catastrophe combine to create a scenario that without some form of intervention will result in the annihilation of the human race,” Lem says, pausing to adjust his glasses on his nose. “If you’ll pardon the hyperbole.”

Linda, Ted, and Bhamba are all speechless, but that doesn’t stop Phil and Lem from continuing with the practiced ease of collaborators with years of experience picking up where the other drops off.

“Further complicating things is the individual micro-climates that we all create in our own personal spheres.”  
The only audience reaction is from Bhamba, who laughs at the word _spheres_. Which, okay, given the discussion _is_ pretty funny, they have to admit.

“And if that isn’t confounding enough, there’s also been some pretty well-documented research showing that there’s variability within our own micro-climates that’s not being addressed. You know, between left and right.”

“With that in mind, we have created something that addresses not only the personal thermal variability, but the external macro-climate as well.”

“We call them Macro-cooling Differential of Lateral Temperatures,” Lem says with pride.

“McDLT’s for short, because…”

But Phil is cut off by Ted, who snaps his fingers and points at the both of them: “They keep the hot side hot, and the cool side cool?”

“…well, yes.”

“Yes,” Ted crows. “Nailed it.” He looks like he could really go for a high-five right about now, but no one in the room is really capable, or willing, to partake in that kind of pageantry.

“So you made… cooler-bloomers? For men,” Linda asks, jotting down some notes on the legal pad in front of her. Linda never does that.

Phil and Lem look from her, back to each other.

“For starters,” Lem says.

“But we have some plans to extend the line to all masculine-presenting people,” Phil continues.

“And with their feedback, maybe taking the technology further to benefit other gender identities and physiologies.”

Even Bhamba looks impressed by that. Which… Bhamba is never impressed, mostly because he goes from zero to bitter he didn’t think of it in the time it would take a normal person to even grudgingly admit something was cool.

“A summer without sweating,” says Linda with a wistful sigh.

“The military applications,” says Ted, clearly already imagining where in his cap he’ll put this particular feather. “Think of the revenue from just the clothing allowance stipends alone…”

“Sure, but do they come in any fun colors?” asks Bhamba, trying his best to find some kind of fault.

But before they can answer, Ted’s cell phone alarm chimes, indicating the end of their meeting time.

“That’s me. Veronica’s expecting me in her office. Guys,” Ted gets to his feet. “Great work. Really proud of you. This is really something, and not at all inadvertently evil. Nicely done.”

Phil and Lem watch as everyone else files out of the room in Ted’s wake.

Lem is the first to find his voice.

“Did we just...” He adjusts his glasses. “Did we just get an atta’boy?”

“I think we did. I think we just got the mother of all atta’boys.”

“Is that a congratta’boy?”

“It is now.”

A small celebratory dance break later, the duo gather up their belongings for the trek back down to their lab. In the hallway, they pass Gretchen, and Lem smiles at her demurely. Gretchen doesn’t even break stride. Phil isn’t always the most observant of social cues, but even he can’t miss this one.

“Is everything okay with you two? You _were_ in the lab earlier than usual today.”

“Oh, we called it off over the weekend,” Lem says as he pushes the elevator call button. “She’s being transferred to another branch. There’s apparently a lot of upward mobility in Third-Shift Accounting at our D.C. offices. ”

“I had no idea Third-Shift Accountants were in such high demand.”

Phil allows a companionable silence to fall between them that’s only broken by the arrival of the elevator, and the Muzak arrangement of _Green Anaconda_ that plays softly in the background once they’re inside.

Phil finds himself thinking about the comfort in having difficult conversations in liminal spaces like elevators. How it’s implicit in such spaces that one need feel no responsibility to look directly at the person you’re conversing with, and how much freedom there is to be found there.

“Lem? I know how much Gretchen meant to you, and for that I am so sorry that it’s over between you two. But…” Phil falls quiet again, and begins to fidget in that way that clearly illustrates just how anxious he is about what he wants to say next.

“But…” Lem prompts.

“But the fact that she never makes any sound when she walks, and has those cold dead eyes, always really freaked me out. ”

Lem huffs a quiet laugh, and smiles a barely there smile.  
“I know. I always knew. That’s why I insisted on us spending time together on a regular schedule, so that way it’d be easier for you to avoid her. Tuesday mornings just happened to work best for her.”

“Thank you, Lem.”

“You’re welcome, Phil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to the Ig Nobel Prize winner list for my chapter 2 invention.  
> https://www.improbable.com/ig-about/winners/
> 
> And you can read more about "Thermal asymmetry of the human scrotum" here, if that's your thing...  
> https://academic.oup.com/humrep/article/22/8/2178/643997


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If not you, then…who?” The question hangs in the air. Both men look from the room, to each other, then back to the room… followed quickly by an instinctive step towards each other.
> 
> There’s safety in numbers, and these days… any safety you can find is good to have.
> 
> The war against the worms hasn’t been going in humanity’s favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks go out to Sarah, Liz, and Steph for their copious amounts of help.  
> And to my beta readers Becca and Beth.

_At Veridian Dynamics we don’t ask a lot, only that you obey.  
Obey our directives. Obey your new worm masters. Just obey.  
Look at your leader. Now back to me. Now back to your leader. You can’t, your leader has been turned into diamonds. Obey.  
_ _Like a good neighbor: obey  
Can you obey me now? Good.  
Every kiss begins with Obey.  
Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed obey.  
America runs on obedience.  
  
Veridian Dynamics. We own you._

\----------

Phil and Lem arrive at the same time to find their lab fully decorated. Balloons are tastefully arranged about the space, there are several immaculately wrapped gifts of different shapes and sizes on the spare bench, and the DNA streamers that line the walls have a very precise 10.5 helical twist.

“Wow. You got here extra early this year,” Lem says with an emotional crack in his voice.

Phil is equally amazed and impressed, as well as somehow both envious AND jealous. Which is a lot for someone to feel first thing on a Wednesday morning. “It’s beautiful. I wish I could take credit for this, but it wasn’t me. Besides, we left the house at the same time, how could I have gotten here before you when we travelled together?”

“If not you, then…who?” The question hangs in the air. Both men look from the room, to each other, then back to the room… followed quickly by an instinctive step towards each other.

There’s safety in numbers, and these days… any safety you can find is good to have.

The war against the worms hasn’t been going in humanity’s favor.

Forty-seven days prior, Phil returned home to find a Dear John letter on his kitchen table. Due to the Worm-pocalypse his wife had been recalled by Mossad, and was leaving him. In her clipped, no-nonsense tone she wrote that while their relationship hadn’t always been easy, at least now it was over, and that he should enjoy getting to sleep in the big bed whenever he wanted to.

It took Phil all of a half an hour to call Lem, and invite him to move in, and that was mostly because he spent the first twenty-five of those minutes starfished in his new bedroom. Lem obviously agreed, and not entirely because Bhamba had all but moved in with his mother by that point.

The initial reporting on the worms by Veridian’s top Cryptid Xenobiologists had been wrong in merely classifying the creatures as parasitic. Apparently, along with being parasitic, the worms are also darn near indestructible, intelligent, and really, REALLY carnivorous.

The last bit had been discovered during a particularly unfortunate debate between the worms and the Veridian Legal department. Management didn’t need to rely on its crack team of Descriptive Xenolinguists to realize exactly how little patience prehistoric reanimated worms had for modern-day legalese.

However, the Descriptive Xenolinguists _had_ been helpful with the cataloguing of several new parts of speech, turns of phrase, and a smattering of some choice forms of worm profanity. In particular, Doctors Deacon and Fargo had received much scientific acclaim for their work in the translation of the sounds and gestures surrounding the worms’ feelings on the required use of Non-Disclosure Agreements, and “where they could be shoved.”

Overall, it wasn’t a total loss.

While Phil and Lem remain huddled together, the door to their lab bursts open behind them. They somehow manage to jump without actually leaving the ground as Veronica strides with purpose into the room.

“Phil. Lem. I’m glad I found you. The Worms, I mean Management, wanted me to ensure that your lab was decorated to your liking and that you found the cake in the freezer.”

They say nothing.

“You did find the cake in the freezer, yes?”

Phil and Lem slowly shake their heads.

“There’s a cake. It’s in the freezer.”

“Did…” Lem begins, but stops when Veronica turns the full force of her attention onto him.

Veronica raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

He clears his throat and tries again. “Did you do all this?” Lem gestures to the room as a whole, all while not really breaking contact with Phil.

“Since it was my underlings that did, and since I have absolutely no shame in claiming their successes as my own, then yes. Yes I did.” She looks at him expectantly. There’s a social contract he has yet to fulfill his part of.

“Thank you?” She smiles warmly, and with the precision of a shark.

“You’re welcome.”

Veronica turns to leave, but stops by the door.

“Oh and Lem, Management wants me to wish you a happy birthday, and warn you that one of your presents should probably go into the freezer sooner rather than later. So you should see to that.”

Both men turn, and take a closer look at the packages on the bench. One… is suspiciously human-shaped. Well two, if you also take into account the one that’s also suspiciously marionette-shaped. All of them are wrapped in festive paper decorated with green anacondas wearing birthday hats.

“They are very pleased with you upstairs. Both of you. Because of you and your actions, Management is considering making today a company holiday: Finder’s Day,” she says with as much of a carnival bark as she can muster in a pencil skirt.

“A whole company holiday?” It’s the first thing Phil has uttered since Veronica’s abrupt arrival.

“Well, they are very proud of you for letting them out. And of all of your work in general. As am I.” With a nod, she makes her exit, leaving both men slightly more stunned than they were at her arrival.

“Did she just….”

“...say that she was _proud_ of us?”

Lem squeezes Phil just that much tighter.

“This is the best birthday ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough for reading this far.  
> My hope is that you chortled at least once.  
> And that if you haven't watched this show, you seek it out and do so.
> 
> It's a little dated, but the funny still slaps in spite of that.  
> If you're in the US you can stream it on Hulu.
> 
> In a similar vein, there's the SyFy show "Eureka," from which I have stolen the names for the Descriptive Xenolinguists Doctors Deacon and Fargo.  
> I always kind of thought it'd be hilarious if Veridian Dynamics and Global Dynamics were competitors. So that's why they're here.  
> Extra bonus geek points if you caught that.   
> Well done!

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this story came entirely from an article entitled: "Ancient Roundworms Allegedly Resurrected From Russian Permafrost," which you can read here:  
> Ancient Roundworms Allegedly Resurrected From Russian Permafrost
> 
> Midgley the Whale is a Fudgie the Whale variation of Thomas Midgley, the inventor of freon.  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Midgley_Jr.  
> Fudgie the Whale is a creation of the Carvel Ice Cream corporation.  
> https://www.carvel.com/cakes/fudgie-the-whale
> 
> "Green Anaconda" can earworm you here:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F000UK_kUq4


End file.
